## Chapter 5: The Net Tightens
The cold pressure against Bob's mind wasn't the Void. It was sharper, more clinical – a relentless, impersonal scrutiny that prickled the back of his neck even in the relative safety of his room above Sal's Deli. It felt like invisible searchlights sweeping the Bowery's grimy streets, probing the shadows where he lurked. Batman. Oracle. The hunt for the "Phantom" wasn't just a headline; it was a palpable force pressing down on him. Every glance from a passerby, every flicker of a security camera, felt like a potential exposure.
**[Level: 2 (19.5/75 XP)]**
**[JP: 8.0]**
**[Abilities: Regeneration Lv.2, Invulnerability Lv.2, Strength Lv.1, Speed & Reflexes Lv.1, Stamina Lv.1]**
He had 8.0 JP. He needed 10.0 to upgrade **Superhuman Strength** to Level 2. Two more points. A seemingly small gap that felt like a chasm under the weight of the scrutiny. The Void exploited the paranoia relentlessly.
*"Feel them?"* it hissed, a serpent coiling around his thoughts. *"The Bat and his Oracle. They dissect your every shadow. They know you bleed. They know you fear. They will find this hovel. They will dissect *you*. Unless you strike first. Use the points. Take the Strength. Find their lair. Crush the woman in her chair. Silence the Bat in his cave. End the hunt!"*
*"Shut up,"* Bob thought back, clenching his fists. The phantom ache in his healed arm flared. He wouldn't become that. He *couldn't*. But he needed the strength. Not for violence, but for survival. To act decisively, to escape faster, to handle threats without ending up shot and bleeding in another alley.
The grind became a desperate, high-stakes game. He moved like a ghost through Gotham, hyper-aware, sticking to the fringes:
* **Quest: Prevented Carjacking:** Intervened as a nervous teen tried to hotwire an old sedan near a closed garage. A low growl and sudden appearance from the shadows made the kid bolt. The relieved owner found his car intact the next morning, unaware of the near-loss. **[Reward: 1 XP, 1 JP]**
* **Quest: Found Lost Medication:** Located an asthma inhaler dropped by a panicked clerk fleeing a false fire alarm in a discount store. Returned it anonymously via a store employee. **[Reward: 0.5 XP, 0.5 JP (Threat Level: Minimal)]**
* **Quest: Stopped Bicycle Theft:** Chased down (using his Lv.1 Speed in a sprint) a kid trying to steal a delivery rider's bike, retrieved the bike, and scared the thief off without confrontation. The rider was baffled but grateful. **[Reward: 1 XP, 1 JP]**
The points trickled in:
**[Level: 2 (22/75 XP)]** // *19.5 + 1 + 0.5 + 1 = 22 XP*
**[JP: 10.5]** // *8.0 + 1 + 0.5 + 1 = 10.5 JP*
He had it. **10.5 JP.** Enough. Back in his room, heart pounding not just from exertion but from the oppressive sense of being watched even here, he allocated the points.
**[Superhuman Strength: Lv.1 -> Lv.2]**
**[Cost: 10 JP]**
**[JP Remaining: 0.5]**
The upgrade was profound. It wasn't just muscle mass; it was a fundamental rewiring of his potential. Power thrummed beneath his skin, dense and coiled. He felt anchored, heavier in a way that wasn't physical bulk. He experimentally gripped the sturdy metal leg of his cot. Before, he could lift it with effort. Now, he lifted it *effortlessly* with one hand, the metal groaning under his grip. He could probably crumple it like tin foil if he tried. He could lift a small car engine block. Rip open a chain-link fence. Break down a sturdy wooden door. Raw, controllable force was now his. The Void purred with dark satisfaction. *"Yes... Feel it. The power to break. To dominate. Now let it *out*."*
Bob set the cot leg down carefully. He didn't want to break it. He wanted to *use* it. To protect. To escape. The 0.5 JP was useless for now. He needed XP. He needed to be invisible.
**Interlude: Clock Tower**
Oracle's fingers flew across multiple keyboards, streams of data reflected in her glasses. "Patterns are solidifying, Bruce. The 'Phantom' incidents cluster in the Bowery and Narrows, predominantly between 10 PM and 2 AM. Consistent thermal signatures – slightly elevated baseline, indicative of enhanced physiology or metabolic activity, matching the docks residual reading – detected near nine low-level intervention sites in the past week. Always fleeting, always gone before authorities arrive."
On the main screen, a map of Gotham lit up with pulsing dots – the intervention sites. Overlaid was a heat map showing the thermal signature correlation zone, narrowing down to a few blocks in the heart of the Bowery.
"Wayne Enterprises cross-reference?" Batman's voice crackled over the comm.
"Running now," Oracle replied. "Focusing on male employees, ages 18-25, residing within the thermal signature zone. Payroll records show several called in sick during the three days immediately following the docks incident." A list of names and grainy ID photos appeared. "Bob Peterson. Data entry, sub-basement level 3. Address: Above 'Sal's Deli', 52nd and Sprang. Matches the zone. Called in sick for three days post-incident. No prior medical flags. Clean, quiet, borderline invisible."
The image of Bob Peterson filled a quadrant of the screen – gaunt, young, with tired eyes and an unremarkable face. Next to it, the enhanced, bloodied face from Black Canary's thermal scan flickered. The resemblance, despite the panic and pain, was striking.
"He fits," Oracle stated. "Low-level position, access negligible. Residence is a known flophouse. Perfect cover."
"Monitor discreetly," Batman ordered, his gaze fixed on Bob's photo. "Traffic cams near the deli. Financials. Communication logs. Any anomalies. Do not approach. If he's the Phantom, he's skittish, injured, and potentially unstable. We observe. We assess the threat level."
"Understood," Oracle confirmed. "He's good at hiding, but we have his scent now. It's only a matter of time."
***
The sense of scrutiny intensified. Bob felt it like static on his skin as he walked to Wayne Enterprises the next day. He kept his head down, his posture mimicking Bob Peterson's habitual slump. He felt the weight of his Lv.2 Strength like a hidden weapon, constantly aware of its potential, terrified of revealing it accidentally. The data-entry job felt like a minefield. Every glance from a supervisor, every ping of the internal security system, felt like a probe.
That night, the System offered a quest that twisted his stomach:
**[Quest Generated: Hostage Situation - Pawn Shop]**
**[Location: Miller's Pawn & Loan, Bowery]**
**[Objective: Neutralize armed robbers (2 confirmed), ensure safety of hostages (Shop owner + 1 customer). Minimize casualties.]**
**[Threat Level: Medium (Armed Hostiles / Hostages)]**
**[Potential Reward: 7 XP, 7 JP]**
Seven points. Substantial. But a pawn shop robbery? In the heart of the Bowery? With hostages? It screamed setup. Or terrible timing. The Void crowed. *"See? The city tests you! Show them your strength! Break the robbers! Shatter their guns! Let the hostages see their savior and know *fear* as well as gratitude!"*
Bob hesitated, cloaked in deep shadow across the street from the pawn shop. He saw the flickering lights inside. Heard a muffled shout. Two figures in dark hoodies, one holding a pistol to the head of the elderly shop owner, the other waving a shotgun at a cowering young woman. GCPD sirens wailed in the distance, too far away. They'd be too late.
He couldn't ignore it. But charging in? His Lv.2 Strength could kill if he wasn't careful. His Lv.2 Invulnerability might stop a pistol round, but a shotgun blast at close range? Unlikely. And cameras… there were always cameras.
He needed precision. Stealth. Leverage. He circled the block, moving with his Lv.1 Speed (quick, silent) and Lv.1 Reflexes (heightened awareness). He found the pawn shop's back alley. A heavy fire door, barred from the inside. His Lv.2 Strength made short work of the bar – a single, controlled pull snapped the thick metal bolt like dry wood. He eased the door open silently.
He was in a cluttered stockroom. He could hear the robbers in the front.
"...empty the register, old man! And the safe! Now!"
"Please... I don't have the combination..."
"Then you're useless!"
Bob scanned the room. Shelves stacked with junk. A heavy, old-fashioned cast-iron radiator against the wall near the doorway to the front. Perfect. He moved swiftly, silently. He gripped the massive radiator. Even with Lv.2 Strength, it was heavy – hundreds of pounds of solid iron. He strained, muscles bunching, veins standing out on his forehead. With a low grunt, he lifted it a few inches off the floor and *shoved* it sideways, sending it crashing down directly in front of the stockroom doorway with an earth-shaking *BOOM* that rattled the entire shop.
"What the hell?!" the shotgun-wielding robber yelled, spinning towards the noise.
In that split-second of distraction, Bob was already moving. Not towards the robbers, but laterally. He grabbed a heavy metal cashbox from a shelf and hurled it with Lv.1 Strength (strong, but not superhumanly so) towards the front window. It smashed through the glass with a spectacular crash.
"COPS!" Bob roared, deepening his voice, projecting from the shadows of the stockroom. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS! YOU'RE SURROUNDED!"
The robbers panicked. The one with the pistol whirled towards the shattered front window. The one with the shotgun stared wildly at the massive radiator blocking the back exit. The shop owner seized his chance, ducking behind the counter. The young customer scrambled towards the broken window.
"Freeze!" The shout came from the street. GCPD cruisers screeched to a halt, officers taking cover behind doors, weapons drawn. The distraction had bought seconds. Precious seconds.
The robbers, trapped and panicked, dropped their weapons, raising their hands. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
Bob didn't wait. He slipped out the shattered back door he'd forced open moments before the police stormed the front, vanishing into the alley as the shouts of "Clear!" and "Hostages safe!" echoed behind him. He'd used his strength for leverage and distraction, not direct violence. He'd used his voice as a weapon. He'd remained unseen.
**[Quest: Hostage Situation - Complete!]**
**[Reward: 7 XP, 7 JP Awarded.]**
**[Level: 2 (29/75 XP)]** // *22 + 7 = 29 XP*
**[JP: 7.5]** // *0.5 + 7 = 7.5 JP*
He leaned against a damp wall in the next alley over, breathing heavily. The 7.5 JP felt earned. He'd acted. He'd helped. He'd stayed hidden. But as he caught his breath, a familiar, cold pressure intensified against his mind. It felt closer now. More focused. Not just sweeping searchlights, but a beam narrowing in.
He looked up. High on a crumbling water tower overlooking the Bowery, a darker shadow stood against the city-lit clouds. It was still, silent, observing. Watching the commotion at the pawn shop. Watching the alleys. Watching *him*.
The shadow didn't move. It didn't need to. The message was clear: *We see you, Phantom. The net is tightening.*
The Void's whisper slithered out, colder and more tempting than ever before: *"They see the shadow. Soon they will see the man. Then what, little sentinel? Will you run? Or will you finally let me show them the *Void*?"*
Bob pushed off the wall, the new strength in his limbs feeling suddenly inadequate against the gaze from the tower. He had 7.5 JP. He needed speed. He needed to disappear faster than ever. But the cost of survival was rising, and the eyes of Gotham's Dark Knight were now fixed firmly on his corner of the abyss. The slow path was ending. The endgame was beginning.